Friendship Set on Fire
by shesasurvivor
Summary: After Peeta threw Katniss the bread, the two ended up becoming friends. Fast-forward a few years, and Katniss can't understand why Peeta won't talk to her when she and Gale are at the bakery's door one day. Canon-divergent, a "it would have happened anyway" fic. Oneshot.


**Author's Note:** This oneshot was written for secret-odair for her birthday request on .com in March 2017. The request was for "Everlark friends-to-lovers, fluffy yet with some drama, and with a happy ending."

* * *

Gale raps on the door behind the bakery; I hold my breath, waiting for it to open. It seems like ages before we hear the footsteps, a heavy treat that gradually grows louder the closer they get to the door. But my heart sinks before we even see who they belong to, because I already know. They aren't his.

Mr. Mellark opens the door, and gives us his usual silent nod in greeting. He's not a very talkative man, the baker, even once you get to know him a little bit. When you think about it, it's amazing how his son is the exact opposite. I let Gale do the talking, since I'm still preoccupied at the moment, trying to figure out where he is, what's going on.

After a while, I get the sense that the trade is wrapping up. Mr. Mellark smiles, thanking us for the squirrels. Gale gives me a sideways glance, and stuffs the bread into his game bag. But just before Mr. Mellark is about to close the door, I finally speak.

"Is Peeta here?" I blurt out. The door pauses, then opens again while Mr. Mellark looks me over. He looks like he's trying to decide on something.

"He is…" he says at last, slowly, drawing it out, as though he's stalling for time. I can tell he's being purposely evasive, which means that Peeta probably gave him instructions that he didn't want to talk to us.

Or, I'm afraid to admit, that he doesn't want to talk to me.

I glance over to Gale, but I'm met with a stony expression. I won't find any help here. I look back to Mr. Mellark, and with a deep sigh, nod. I understand what he's trying to tell me. I turn to leave, with Gale going on about how to split our spoils at my elbow. I'm not listening, though, not really.

"I wonder why Peeta doesn't want to talk to us," I say suddenly, interrupting Gale's plans on how to divvy up the rabbits we shot in the woods earlier.

Gale looks annoyed. "Sorry," I say quietly. "I didn't mean to interrupt." I know how important rationing out our food is to him.

He doesn't say anything for a long moment; just looks me over. His expressions melts from annoyed to sympathetic. "I don't know, Catnip. He's more your friend than mine."

"No," I protest immediately, because I know that's not true. "He's your friend, too."

Gale just gives me a rueful smile. "He's friendly with me because of you."

Now I know that can't be true. Because Gale and Peeta have had lots of times together as friends in their own right. I try to look back on our history together, to find an incident, of some time when they spent time together by themselves as friend. But I'm shocked when I come up short.

"Why would he do that?" I ask defensively, still feeling a need to prove him wrong for some reason.

Gale just shakes his head. If he knows of a reason, he doesn't offer it. "If you want to know why he's upset with you, you should just ask him yourself," he tells me, then goes right back to talking about those rabbits. Case closed.

At first, I'm too stubborn to even entertain the thought. And, okay, maybe just a little afraid of whatever he might say. But the more I turn over Gale's words in my mind, the more I realize he's right. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that Peeta's behavior is making me angry. Whatever's bothering him, he's being totally unfair in how he's handling it. So later that evening, after dinner has been cooked and eaten, and my sister is working on her homework and my mother on one of her remedies, I slip back outside my house in the Seam, and start back into town.

Everything is quiet behind the bakery when I get there, but I can hear the sounds of people moving around inside. Unless his schedule has changed recently, Peeta should be coming outside at any time to feed the pigs, and fetch supplies for the bakery's day tomorrow. Half-afraid one of his neighbors, or even his mother, who doesn't seem to like me very much, might come outside and wonder why I'm loitering in their backyard, I climb up the scraggly old apple tree, and settle into one of its stronger branches to wait.

It can't be ten minutes before the backdoor quietly creaks open, and Peeta appears. He looks out blankly over the stretch of land before him, but since I'm above eye level, he doesn't notice me. I watch him as he makes his way over to the pigs, feeling slops of something out of pails to them. And all of a sudden, I'm 11-years-old again, crouching in the freezing rain while Peeta pretends to throw burnt bread to the pigs. Only it wasn't the pigs who wound up with the bread in the end.

I shake my head to bring myself back to the present. I was planning on confronting Peeta, and confront I will. Only now, the memory of how he saved me with the bread fresh in my mind, I don't feel quite so passionate about it.

"This feels familiar," I say. Peeta jumps when he hears my voice, and twists his head in my direction, though I can tell he didn't mean to react so quickly. Probably he was hoping to maintain the silent treatment. It's too late now, though. "Katniss," he says coolly. "What do you want?"

I wrinkle my nose. That was not the response I was expecting. "Don't you remember when you threw me that bread?" I ask, almost demand of him. Because I think about it every day. Every single time I see him, even now, after all this time. Because no matter how good of friends we may have become, I will never stop owing him for what he did. So the thought that he might not remember… I feel tears stinging my eyes at the mere thought. But I try to will them away the best I can. I'm supposed to be the one in charge here, and I can't do that if I'm crying.

Peeta drops my gaze, and turns back to the pigs. "I remember," he mumbles.

Silence falls over us for a moment. I'm not really sure what to say now. So much for being in charge.

"Shouldn't you be with Gale right now?" he asks, looking at me over his shoulder. There's no mistaking the bitter tone in his voice. But the question is… why? He never had a problem with my spending time with him before.

"Why would I be with Gale?" I ask, genuinely confused.

He turns back to look at the pigs. "I thought you two were… together now."

What? Is that what's been bothering him? I can't for the life of me fathom why it would bother him to the point of ceasing contact with me, and yet, deep down, I know it's the truth. "N- no," I sputter. I feel like I should say more, but to be honest, I'm not really sure where to start.

"You're not?" He looks back over at me. The hostility in his voice has disappeared. In its place, there's genuine surprise.

"No," I confirm. Then a thought occurs to me. "How did you know about that?"

He thinks it over a minute before answering. "I… I overheard it," he explains, sounding sheepish. "When he was asking you to… you know."

I remember that day. We were skinning squirrels in the little patch of a yard outside my house, when Gale blindsided me with the admission that he harbored feelings for me. Wanted me to be his girlfriend. Or at least consider the prospect. I hadn't realized Peeta was there-he must have been walking up the road to my house, when he caught that part of the conversation. Though how he missed the rest, I don't know, unless he left before he even got the chance. "You heard that?" I ask, feeling myself blush for some stupid reason.

"Uh-huh," he admits, looking guilty. He's quick to explain himself. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, honestly. I left as soon as I realized what was going on." Now he looks red himself.

Well, that explains why he didn't hear the end of that conversation. "Oh. Well… I turned him down."

Now Peeta looks surprised. "Wow. I really thought you two were together. You know, given how you were still doing everything together and all."

"Why wouldn't we be?" I ask.

He blinks. "You mean after you turned him down?"

"Yeah," I say. "He said he understood. That he was fine with just being my friend."

Peeta turns to look at me, his face a mixture of astonishment and amusement. "And you believed him? Poor guy."

'What do you mean?" I ask, feeling irritated. "Why wouldn't I believe him?"

"Katniss, if a guy has feelings for you, those feelings don't just… go away," he says, more passionately than I expected.

"How do you know?" I snap.

"Because- " He stops himself before he finishes the sentence. Judging by the look on his face, it seems like it was just in the nick of time, too. He blushes deep red, and averts his gaze. He turns back and starts feeding the pigs again. "I just do. I'm a guy, aren't I?"

Something weird has happened. Something has shifted. I can sense it, even if I can't tell what it is. I just stand there, gaping at his back, trying to figure out something to say. But I can't. Nothing I can think of feels right.

"I have to go," I finally get out, very quietly. So much so, that I'm not sure he even heard me. But I see him nod his head. I turn on my heel and retreat. Peeta doesn't stop me or come after me. I keep thinking I should be relieved. What surprises me is how upset it makes me when he doesn't.

Peeta feels bad about what transpired between us two days ago. I know, because on our next day off from school, he shows up at my door, asking me to take him into the woods. He's never gone before. He has always left that up to Gale and me.

But today he is adamant. He follows me under the fence, and then sticks close by my side as I lead him deeper and deeper into my sanctuary. I'm not really sure what to do with him today, since hunting is out of the question. I decide to take him to the lake. Maybe I can teach him to swim. I haven't really been there since my father died, it's been too hard to face the memories. But for some reason, having Peeta by my side makes it easier to confront them.

There's an ancient tree near the east shore of the lake that looks like it's been around since before the world started. It has a thick trunk, and strong, straggly branches that go off in every which way. I always imagined it was the tree mentioned in that song my father used to sing, 'The Hanging Tree.' It's here, in the freedom provided by its shadowy protection, that Peeta and I share our first kiss.


End file.
